


Got My Flash On

by skyearth85



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24342529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyearth85/pseuds/skyearth85
Summary: Joe-Liebgott-goes-to-Waradventure with a twist.
Relationships: Joseph Liebgott/David Kenyon Webster
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30
Collections: Heavy Artillery Rolling Remix 2020





	Got My Flash On

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the Rolling Remix 2020 @ HEAVY ARTILLERY.  
> Thanks to Tec for being an amazing mod and the beta for this little story.

"It's too hot, I can't breathe," Webster complained.

It was the middle of the afternoon, some of the hottest hours of the day, but Joe's orders were quite clear: hurry to check the small port of the island, where the last shipments were arriving from the cargo ship. Even if it technically was Liebgott’s mission, he found the way to convince Webster to go with him.

Joe agreed with David, too fucking hot and humid, but there were also some nice aspects.

Like how the hot temperature made Web's cheeks a pretty red, his eyes a sky blue and leaving his shirt always open. Not all was bad.

But Joe got an image to uphold to his colleague. "Webster, for you Normandy rained too much, Holland was a sequence of poorly planned missions, while in the Ardennes it was too cold. Is there something you have no complaints about?" he inquired.

Webster took off his helmet again, trying to dry his forehead. "Unbelievable, they shipped us out of Europe right at the beginning of summer," he whined. They had finally arrived at the harbor.

“Came on Webster, summer in the Pacific.” Joe reminded him, taking out his equipment, while Webster was opening the 35mm Eyemo custody. “Maybe we will catch the Taking of Tokyo."

Together they mounted the camera on the tripod, finishing quickly the adjustment.

“I would like to catch some fresh air,” Webster replied. He decided to leave Joe at his job and sit down with his notebook.

“And me some nice shots. Thank you for your collaboration.” And with a wink, Joe started to record the scenery in front of his eyes.

They met during training, the shining Havard-boy reporter and the cameraman from Frisco.

At the time David was more an assistant than a journalist, following around the older reporters from The Wall Street Journal, and learning how to do the heavy and dirty aspects of the job, while also failing to grasp how a rifle worked.

Joe until the war did mostly freelancing, but he answered the call of the San Francisco Chronicle where Robbie, an ex-lover, remembered from the last time they met at one of the clubs frequented by gentlemen of their preference, that he was ready to enlist.

So Joe was sent to the Army with an official pink War Correspondent ID card, a pistol, a 35mm Eyemo camera, and a 4x5 Speed Graphic for stills.

His contract for the SFC was for photos, but because he was quite handy with a moving camera, he also worked for the Army and other revues.

He knew from the beginning that if Joe wanted, he could have had Webster in his bed. You didn’t grow up in a city like San Francisco and didn’t recognize the same desire for a male body.

The boy was pretty, really pretty, but too naïve and excited to finally have become a real reporter.

Joe didn’t pursue it at the time.

After training they were attached to different units and so they didn’t see again until the end of the Ardennes Counteroffensive.

It happened in Haguenau. Joe arrived there with the Battered Bastards of Bastogne, while Webster was with some auxiliary corps. David was clean, fresh shaved, and with a fitting uniform with a perfect blue triangle patch. Joe was a disaster, dirty, and with a too-large uniform.

But Webster wasn’t anymore the college-boy, the wannabe reporter, he left at training. He was a veteran now, a _man_. And Joe wanted that man.

(And Joe _got_ that man).

So, four years after he started his _Joe-Liebgott-goes-to-War_ adventure, he had acquired some nasty scars (the one on the neck was the worst, a souvenir from Holland, fucking Montgomery), a 35mm Contax from a dead Kraut, some lifelong nightmares and a lover with whom he had an explosive relationship.

The saddest thing was that Joe probably was in love with the prick.

Was Webster in love or at least interested in him? Difficult to determine.

Certainly he was interested in the sex, but a relationship? Something stateside? Liebgott was too old and tired to put too much faith in his bed skills to sustain a romance.

He watched Webster still writing something in his notebook. From the spacing on the fonts, it wasn’t something for the newspaper. He had some side projects about sharks and marine life, which suited more their setting in the Pacific than their previous post in Europe.

“I have finished filming.” Joe declared. “But I could shoot some photos.”

Webster raised his head from the notes. “Do you need help?”

“No.” But he was grateful for the offer, so he gently tapped his boot against David’s back.

He went a little far away and took some shots of the landscape, with the traffic of the small harbor.

He also took some shots with Webster in them.

_Gorgeous_.

And maybe Liebgott was kidding himself because Webster had him in his arms after Landsberg, he followed Joe in the Pacific even if he could have remained in Europe, he was the one talking about leaving the East Coast and searching sometimes in the West and he called what they did _love-making_ not _fucking_.

So Joe turned back, put the camera in the bag, and sat near him.

David closed his notebook, watching him carefully, maybe sensing that there was something different about Joe.

Joe let himself watch him like Webster was something precious (because he was).

“It’s gonna be good times, Web. When we get home, I mean.”

David smiled. “I hope so, Joe.” He let his knee touch Joe’s. “I do.”

“In San Francisco.” Also Joe put pressure on the touching knee. God, he wanted to kiss him so badly.

“Ok.” But David’s smile was telling a whole story with that syllable.

“Good.” And also his.

**THE END**


End file.
